


Between Oblivion

by JamesPeppersalt



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Cyrodiil, F/M, Fluff, Post-Oblivion Crisis, Pre-Oblivion Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesPeppersalt/pseuds/JamesPeppersalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meeting the soft-spoken Alik'r warrior Mayrisha Dragonheart wasn't the strangest thing to happen to Martin the day the Oblivion Gate opened in Kvatch.<br/>But it might very well be the most important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mayrisha Dragonheart

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the cliche but I really do like Martin a lot. Still not over him after the whole (spoilers). But please enjoy this fic regardless

The city of Kvatch was burning before Martin's eyes.

No one had expected it when the gate to the Realm of Oblivion opened outside the city. Nobody expected when Daedra poured in and the screams of the innocent resounded through the city. The entire experience had shaken him, but he'd managed to muster the courage to help to citizens to safety in the chapel.

Regardless of this, he was still frightened. He felt the need to run... but no. He wouldn't run again. Besides, he was needed here, in the chapel. There were people to be served and healed, and if the chapel fell under attack, he could assist in fending the Daedra off. He knew quite a deal more about them than the others...

By morning, news began to come around that the gate had closed, and a hero was bringing the fight to the Daedra. This news brought a smile to Martin's face. The fight was almost over, even though it had only began a short time ago.

"Excuse me. Do you know a man named 'Martin'?"

Martin looked up; one of the citizens he'd lead was talking to a Redguard woman. She was tall and muscular, with long blue-black hair tied down in a low ponytail, large grey eyes, and a fierce expression. She was wearing a Kvatch cuirass; Martin realized she must have taken it from one of the fallen guards, as he did not recognize her.

"Brother Martin? Yes, he's right over there. He led a group of us here during the confusion of the attack. We owe him our lives."

The woman looked at Martin, her eyes studying him intently. She nodded, mumbling a quick thank you, beginning to make her way over to Martin.

"You are in danger," she said.

He laughed without humor. "Of course I'm in danger. But I'm needed here. I can't leave. I assume you didn't risk your own life to come here to tell me something I already know. Who are you and what do you want?"

She sighed deeply. "The Emperor sent me to find you."

"The Emperor is dead. Who are you? What do you really want with me?"

She hesistated. "You... you _are_ Brother Martin?"

"Yes. I'm a priest. Do you need a priest? I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having trouble understanding the gods right now. If all this is part of a divine plan, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with it."

She twisted her lips, clearly trying to think of what to say next. Martin was very confused. He just wanted this day to be over. He surely couldn't take any more insanity.

"There is a plan," she said simply.

“What plan?” he retorted. “What are you talking about? I prayed to Akatosh all through that terrible night, but no help came. Only more daedra. What can you possibly know that would help make sense of this?”

She looked him, square in the eyes, her intense grey irises trained on him. “Martin, you are the son of the late Emperor Uriel Septim.”

Martin tensed. Well, _this_ wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. A strange emotion began to work through his system. Surely this woman was lying. This was absurd! “Emperor Uriel Septim?” he managed with disbelief. “You think the emperor is my father? No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer.”

“No, Martin,” she said, fierce expression not changing. Surely, any moment now, her features would relax into merriment and they’d laugh about her hilarious jest. But she didn’t laugh. Instead, she went on. “The daedra came here for _you_.”

“An entire city destroyed to get at me? Why?” He said this despite knowing the horrifying answer. “...Because I’m the emperor’s son?”

She nodded. “Why would I be lying?”

He didn’t rightly have an answer for her. “I don’t know. It’s strange… I think you might actually be telling the truth,” he answered. He really did, and that was terrifying. “What does this mean? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to come with me,” she said. “Jauffre and the others at Weynon Priory will guide you. If you just-”

“No. I’m sorry, but even if what you say is true, I won’t abandon these people to their fate. I’ll go with you when we can all leave here together.”

She seemed annoyed at this inconvenience, but Martin wouldn’t change his mind. She seemed to realize this, as she began to sigh. “Fine. I’ll be back.”

“Come back with help. I don’t know how much longer we can hold out here.” She mumbled something under her breath. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you. But I won’t go with you until I know everyone can leave here safely. We’ve been through too much together already for me to just abandon them to their fate.”

She nodded. “Stay safe,” she ordered. “Don’t die.” With that as her farewell, she turned and exited the temple, going out into the Kvatch morning. Martin didn’t know who she was, but he could tell she was a hero.

***

A few hours after his encounter with the Redguard, Savlian Matius gave the order for Tierra to lead the troops and citizens to the encampment. Martin followed, head reeling. _Son of the emperor? Heir to the throne?_ He could hardly focus on helping the others.

Eventually, the Redguard returned, sword and shield in hand. He’d heard about her in her absence. she closed the Oblivion Gate. She saved Kvatch.

“Martin,” she said upon reaching him.

“I wondered if you’d come back. I admit, I’ve had my doubts about your story.” That was an understatement.

“I’ve saved Kvatch,” she declared plainly. “Will you come with me, now?”

He wanted to think about this longer, but he’d had a long time to think about it already. “Yes. I’ll come with you to Weynon Priory and hear what Jauffre has to say.” He motioned forwards. “Lead on.”

She led him out of the tent he had been in. Outside, many citizens thanked him for his help. He humbly accepted and moved on.

Outside the encampment, he said to her, “I’ve put myself in your hands.”

She grunted, as if this did not concern her much. “We’re going ot have to walk. My unicorn is in Bravil.”

“You have… a unicorn.”

“Yes.”

“Are you joking.”

“I never joke about unicorns.”

Martin didn’t know what to think of this woman. She was so… strange. And blunt. And… she was staring at him.

Feeling uncomfortable once again as she watched him, he decided to break the silence. “Unless you need something, let’s continue to Weynon Priory.”

She looked away, nodding.

“Oh- wait.”

Her eyes drifted back to him, her fierce, unreadable face making his skin crawl.

“You never… told me your name.”

She blinked, expression unchanging. “My name is Dragonheart.” With that, they continued on to the Weynon Priory, speaking little.


	2. Weynon Priory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus... I've been playing Dragon Age and Mass Effect...

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire, eh?"

Dragon heart glared daggers at him, kicking away the body of a Mythic Dawn agent who'd assaulted them.

“Please excuse me if I find no humor in being attacked,” she said dryly.

Upon arrival at the Weynon Priory, they'd been attacked by mysterious figures clad in red-and-black robes. “Mythic Dawn,” she’d muttered, cursing under her breath as she drew her sword and shield. Now the battle was over… at least for the moment.

“I think we should find your friend Jauffre at once.”

Her eyes glinted. “Really. I assumed we'd stop for a spot of tea and wait for the Mythic Dawn to join us.”

“Well, that would certainly lighten the mood a bit.”

She snorted, but her expression remained stoic as ever. “Follow me. Stay close.”

“I’m with you.” He looked up at the eerily quiet building.  “We’d better find Jauffre.”

Dragonheart nodded at him, then at the two men who'd assisted them. “Eronor. Piner. Keep watch.

With that, she ran into the Priory, Martin at her heels.

They ran towards sounds of conflict, the noise leading them to the library. There, more Mythic Dawn were fighting an older man with a strained expression and thinning grey hair.

"Halt!" She ordered, attacking the agents with swift ferocity.

"I've got this one!" He shouted, stabbing one that got too close to her with his dagger of sparks. She grunted, and Martin took that as thanks.

These “Mythic Dawn" were avid fighters; truly, they were not enemies to be taken lightly.

But neither was Miss Dragonheart.

Within moments, the three of them had quickly dispatched of their enemies. Dragonheart panted heavily, staring at the corpses on the floor.

“This wasn't part of the plan, was it?”

Dragonheart glared at him again.

“You're back,” the other man said, “thank Talos! They attacked without warning. I was praying in the chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. I had just time to arm myself.” Suddenly, his aged eyes widened. “The Amulet of Kings! I fear that was the target of this attack. I kept it in a secret room in Weynon House. We need to go see if it is safe.”

“Worry not. I shall go check on it,” Martin’s escort stated.

“We'll go together. But I fear the worst…”

Dragonheart followed at a brisk clip as the man- could he be Jauffre?- ran at a pace that seemed much too fast for an old man. Martin in turn followed her.

“Do you think there are any more of those assassins about?”

She grunted.

“Be careful.”

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him, but continued on  nonetheless.

They reached Weynon House, Jauffre rummaging frantically through a chest tucked away in the corner of the room.

“They've taken it!” He wailed. “The Amulet of Kings is gone! The enemy has defeated us at every turn!”

Dragonheart’s expression still did not waver.

“Well,” she articulated, “at the very least, I have delivered Martin safely.”

Jauffre looked at Martin,  and upon seeing him,  sighed with relief. “So it has not all gone against us. Thank Talos for that! We gained Uriel’s heir, and lost the Amulet of Kings.”

The words _Uriel’s heir_ sent chills down Martin’s spine. There was little point in arguing now; he was, almost undeniably, the late Emperor’s son.

It took him a moment to notice that Jauffre was staring at him.

“Martin cannot stay here,” Jauffre said, returning his attention to the stoic Redguard. “We have driven them off,  but they will be back once they learn of Martin’s survival. Which they will.” Another chill snaked its way down Martin’s spine.

Dragonheart looked back at Martin, face hard as always, and then looked back at Jauffre. “Well, Jauffre, where will Martin be safe?”

All this worrying about him was… unnatural. He disliked it greatly.

Jauffre thought for a moment before answering. “Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us. But we must play for a time, at least… Cloud Ruler Temple, I think. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. A few men can hold it against an army. We should leave at once.”

“Hold, Jauffre,” Dragonheart insisted, holding up her hand. “I have questions.”

As she inquired of Jauffre, Martin became lost in thought. He’d had a lot of time to think on the way to Weynon Priory, as Dragonheart did little in the way of conversation. Even when they'd camped, she stayed outside, silent, watching the stars.

She was  an interesting savior, he'd give her that. She seemed so distant, so… disengaged from the world. She didn't seem to fit the paft of “daring heroine”.

“Martin.”

He looked up to see her piercing grey eyes staring him down.

“Let’s continue on to Cloud Ruler Temple,” he said, giving her a strained smile. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since Kvatch was attacked.”

She scoffed, mumbling something about not having a ‘good night’s sleep’ in six years. “Continue following me, then.”

Martin sighed. “The sooner we reach Cloud Ruler Temple, the better. Lead on.”

Dragonheart nodded, and they followed Jauffre as he took them outside. Three horses were prepared; Martin’s horse was a brown stallion. It whinnied aloofly at him as he approached it.

“There, there, horse,” Martin said, patting its rump.

He glanced over at Dragonheart, who was holding the head of her horse, a brown skewbald mare, and she had place their foreheads together.

“I see… you were Prior Maborel’s horse,” she whispered, eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I know I cannot replace your previous owner, but I will take care of you.”

With that, she released the horse’s head and mounted its back. She glanced back at Martin, fierce expression returning. “Are you ready, Emperor?”

Martin felt a lurch in his gut. “Oh, by the Divines, please don’t call me that! Just… just Martin will do.”

Dragonheart nodded and turned again. “Fine… Martin.”

 

***

 

Though on the journey to Weynon Priory Dragonheart had spoken little, on the way to Cloud Ruler Temple she had a few conversations with Jauffre.

“So, how go your travels, Miss Akiir?”

Dragonheart glared at Jauffre, more ire in her eyes than Martin had ever seen before. “How do you know that name?”

“Oh. I had one of the Brothers find your imprisonment records,” Jauffre explained. “I must say, I am sorry about your sister.”

Dragonheart scowled, turning forwards again. “Don’t be. Mayren was always in it for herself, or the glory. I guess now she got what she wanted.”

“If it helps, I found out what happened to her.”

“It doesn’t. And my name is no longer ‘Akiir’.”

“Ah, that’s right. You go by the name you earned in the arena.”

“Correct. Use it.”

Martin was surprised; she was using a firm tone with Jauffre, but she seemed more familiar with him. She wasn’t scowling until he’d brought up her name.

“Um, if you’ll indulge me…” Martin frown as she glared back at him. “What _was_ your name.”

Her eyebrows lowered as her face melted into anger.

“I’m sorry, if you don’t wish to-”

“No. The name I was born with was Mayrisha Akiir. However, I no longer use my surname.”

“Why?”

Her face grew a bit sad as an aura of somber memories fell over her. “I have… _had_ … a sister. Her name was Mayren. And she… betrayed me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She scowled once again. “I wish everyone would stop saying that.”

Martin apologized again and looked away. Dragonheart stared at him for a bit, but eventually turned back.

Shivering, Martin let go of the reins with one hand to draw his robes tighter around him. It was very cold- they were riding near Bruma, close to the border of Skyrim. He’d heard Skyrim was a beautiful place, full of enchantment and long-lost artifacts and lore, but if it was as cold as was said, Martin would prefer to stay in Cyrodiil.

Soon, Cloud Ruler Temple was in sights. It was a large building, snow-kissed and tucked away on a mountaintop. Martin was taken aback by its beauty.

At the main gate, they dismounted, and Martin was greeted by a soldier donning a dapper uniform.

“My lord! Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple!” the soldier greeted him jovially. “We have not had the honor of an emperor’s visit in many years!”

There it was- the ‘emperor’ line again.

“Ah, well… thank you. The honor is all mine,” Martin answered, nodding graciously.

Jauffre began to hurry him along rather than let the soldier continue. “Come. Your Blades are waiting to greet you.”

 _His_ Blades?

Jauffre led him into the courtyard and up the steps, the two followed closely by their Redguard companion. There, a large group of soldiers- the Blades- waited expectantly, watching Martin with eyes that held a mixture of hope and desperation. A dangerous mix, especially in these times.

Jauffre turned to the group of soldiers. “Blades! Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!"

The Blades began to cheer, chanting, “Hail, Dragon Born! Hail, Martin Septim!”

Well, if he wasn’t nervous before, he most certainly was now.

"Your Highness,” Jauffre continued, “The Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne."

Martin looked around, realized they were expecting a speech. Well, he would do his best to deliver.

"Jauffre. All of you. I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best. But this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches. But I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days”. He glanced around nervously as they watched expectantly, waiting for more. “That's it. Thank you."

Jauffre cleared his throat as they realized there was no more. "Well, then. Thank you, Martin. We'd all best get back to our duties, eh, Captain?"

The Blades dispersed slowly, casting glances at Martin, some occasionally looking at Dragonheart, who simply nodded solemnly until they were almost all gone, upon which she walked to Martin.

“Nice speech,” she said simply.

Martin sighed. "Not much of a speech, was it? Didn't seem to bother them, though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin ‘Septim’... I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank you. But everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven't the faintest idea..."

“Well, the Amulet of Kings being missing is a start.”

"Of course. The Amulet of Kings. So we... I... can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion."

“You’ll be the Emperor, you realize.”

The very thought filled him with terror. "The Emperor... that's an idea that will take some getting used to. In any case, we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start."

“Perhaps.” Dragonheart surprised him by putting a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Martin. You will be a wonderful emperor, I’m sure of it.”

He smiled halfheartedly. “Yes… well… thank you.”

“Good luck, Martin.” She released him, then turned away and walked to Jauffre, leaving Martin alone with his fear and his thoughts.


	3. Cloud Ruler Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of the actual fluffy chapters! :') I must wipe away a tear and thank you all for being such loyal fans, though I be a very apathetic fanfic writer. However, I've decided to kick it into gear and update more regularly- at the very least, once a month. You're welcome.

Martin was awed but the beauty of Cloud Ruler Temple.

It was a rather large building, home to all of the Blades in Cyrodiil. Rather than sleep in the same quarters as his loyal guardians, Martin had his own room in the West Wing. In the East Wing, there was a library, which he figured he would visit regularly, being a lover of books. Below that was an armory, where Dragonheart had gone after she'd tried to speak to him again.

Martin, who was not quite in the mood for idle chatter, had simply brushed her off with, "My head is still spinning from everything that has happened. I'll need some time to adjust."

She'd nodded understandingly and departed without a word.

Now, he was reading on his bed before he finally went to sleep. He found it funny, that- how tired he was, after this long, long day, and yet the last thing he felt he could do was go to sleep.

Occasionally, one of the Blades was sent to check on him, and he was starting to learn most of their names; there was Baurus, one of the Blades who'd been there when his... father... was assassinated, but Martin had yet to meet since he'd headed out on another quest; there was Pelagius, Captain Steffan, and Jena, and many, many more. They'd simply stop by to check on him, but soon another came by.

"Hello, my friend," he said, when Dragonheart approached his quarters.

She smirked a bit, snorting. "Friend? I don't think I've earned that."

"Surely you have." He set his book down and slid off of his bed to stand in front of her. He noticed she was a bit taller than he, although due to the fact that she was a Redguard, this was no surprise.

Dragonheart's lips twisted into a strange expression. "Someone like me does not have friends."

Martin would have inquired further, however her expression was that of someone who would not appreciate questioning. "This whole business of being heir to the throne will take some getting used to. Please bear with me," he explained instead.

"Of course, Martin."

"While I'm getting oriented here, you should follow Jauffre's orders."

Dragonheart smirked, looking downwards. "He offered to make me a Blade."

"Truly? Did you accept?"

She ran a hand through her dark ponytail. "At first, I did not consider it... but then I figured I have little else to do. There are worse things to be."

"You know, the Blades are renowned dragonslayers..."

Dragonheart frowned. "Why would anyone want to kill dragons?"

"...You're kidding. Aren't you?"

"I love dragons..."

He laughed. "Well, I would assume so, your name is 'Dragonheart'... or at least, that's what you go by."

The Redguard crossed her arms, thinking for a moment. "I have a few questions I hope you can answer, Martin."

"Of course." He sat down on his bed, motioning for her to sit as well. Rather than sit next to him, she sat on the floor. "Ask away."

"So, about these 'Oblivion Gates'..." she frowned. "I never thought it possible that our world and Oblivion could be connected in that way."

He considered this for a moment. "Something has changed to make these stable portals to Oblivion possible. Jauffre believes that the death of the Emperor and the darkening of the Dragonfires is the key."

She nodded.  "You seem to know a lot about Daedra."

"I... do."

"Do you have a past with them?"

Ah, the question he'd been hoping to avoid. He did not enjoy dwelling on his past with the cult of Sanguine, but he would indulge her, if only a bit.

"I haven't always been a priest. In my youth, I followed a different path. I know more than I want to about the seductive power of daedric magic. Let's just leave it at that," Martin answered.

Although his reply was vague, Dragonheart nodded. "I understand. I haven't exactly had followed to cleanest path in my past."

Martin felt a silent understanding between the two of them before she continued.

"And from what I understand, you need the Amulet of Kings to light the Dragonfires, but... what exactly _is_ the Amulet of Kings?"

"All practitioners of daedric magic are familiar with the almost impenetrable barrier between our world and Oblivion. What the Emperor told you implies that the Amulet is the key to the preservation of that barrier. What I saw at Kvatch... everything I know about daedric magic says that such stable portals are impossible. Yet those gates to Oblivion existed. The old rules no longer apply. Kvatch is only the beginning of what Mehrunes Dagon will do. If the Amulet is truly the key to restoring the barriers between our world and Oblivion, you must waste no time in recovering it."

"No time?" She said quizzically. "I think I could endeavor to waste a little time here."

Martin looked down, chuckling quietly. "Well... I suppose you could."

Although Dragonheart could have spent all night talking to him and he would not have minded, she soon informed him that it was time for her to go- she was to arrive in the Imperial City tomorrow for Jauffre, on a very important mission.

"But," she declared, "I will try my best to return. Then, perhaps... we could talk like this again."

"I... would like that," Martin mused.

She stood up to go, and Martin waved her off. "Don't worry about me, my friend. I know I'm in good hands here."

Dragonheart rolled her eyes at " _my friend_ ", but could not hide the smile on her face.

 

"Emperor Martin?"

Martin looked up from where he read in the East Wing. There was a man standing in front of him, a Redguard like Dragonheart. He was wearing a full set of Blades' armor, and was quite a sight to behold.

"I've been sent here to guard you. My name's Baurus..."

"Ah, yes." Martin closed his book and folded his hands overtop of it. "I've heard many good things about you. I've heard you were there when... well, when my father was killed."

Baurus nodded solemnly. "I was. Glenroy and Captain Renault were... well, I was the only other survivor."

"Aside from Dragonheart."

"Yeah. I've heard that's what she calls herself now. People have taken to calling her that after she became Grand Champion of the Arena." Baurus shook his head. "She should be here soon, regardless. She's quite the capable woman, her..." he smirked. "Though that can be said about most of our women."

Martin stood from where he sat, standing before Baurus... another person, taller than he. A bit irksome, but... it didn't matter.

"So," Martin chuckled, stroking his chin. "A personal guard, eh?"

"Uh- that's right, sir," Baurus confirmed, straightening his posture a bit and saluting him. "I've been sworn to protect you, day and night, vigilantly. I will not fail nor disappoint. Or, at least... I'll try not to."

"Oh, bother. Don't try to impress me. You have nothing to fear."

Baurus smiled sheepishly. "Well... thank you, sir."

 

Baurus was not wrong. He followed Martin everywhere. He kept his distance, being careful not to disturb Cyrodiil's heir, but it was a bit daunting, to be followed. He soon grew used to it, but it was strange, having someone _right there_ , all the time. The only time Baurus was not there was when he was sleeping, but he always waited until Martin was asleep as well.

He was guarding Martin while he ate when Dragonheart returned.

She burst into the East Wing one midafternoon, looking quite the spectacle: she was wearing mithril armor, had a bow strapped to her back, her hair down; she was soaked from head to toe, as if she'd travelled all the way back in the rain.

"Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked," she clarified. "Baurus, may I have a word with Martin?"

Baurus frowned, puzzled. "I-I don't think..."

"Oh, come of it, he's perfectly safe with me," Dragonheart chided.

Baurus looked from her to Martin, then sighed. "I suppose." He bowed to Martin, nodded to Dragonheart, then left the room.

Dragonheart sat down across from Martin, pulling her hair back up. "I apologize for being gone so long. I had some..." her grey eyes darted to the side. "Business. To attend to."

"That's quite alright, my friend, but... where were you?"

"Bravil," she blurted. "Then Cheydinhal. That's... all that needs to be said."

Martin wished to learn more, but giving that he did not talk about his past, he figured she was allowed to have some secrets as well.

"So..." she crossed her gauntleted hands on top of the table.

"What is it, my friend?"

"I am being sent to retrieve the Mysterium Xarxes," she informed him. The sound of its name sent a chill down his spine. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I don't know much about it. The "Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes" are the only source we have for its existence. The author of the "Commentaries" claims the Xarxes was written by Mehrunes Dagon himself, but no one else has ever seen it," Martin explained.

"Hm." Dragonheart screwed up her lips. "I see..."

"Will you be leaving immediately?" he asked concernedly.

Dragonheart's grey eyes met his blue ones.

"No," she answered finally. "Not if you don't want me to."

Martin breathed a sigh of relief. "You know, you have quite the tendency to get into danger."

She smiled coldly. "I'm a dangerous person."

"Truly." Martin smiled. She did not return it, merely raised an eyebrow.

"Truly," she echoed. "I should terrify you, Martin."

"Ah. And would it insult you to say that I don't?"

She frowned, but soon smiled placidly, her features filling with subtle happiness. "No."

"Well, then... I am not scared of you."

"You'd be one of the first," she said, looking away. "I was always supposed to scare people."

"Really? Why?"

Dragonheart looked back at him. "I don't think you'd care to hear my life story."

"Oh? But I would."

Dragonheart's eyes looked towards the floor. "I was born in the slums of Sentinel, in Hammerfell, with the name 'Mayrisha Akiir'. My mother... I do not remember much about her, save for the fact that she had long, dark hair, and was very, very beautiful. She died when I was very young. I had a father, named Argo, and an elder sister named Mayren. My father was strong- he'd been a soldier, but was injured in the line of duty. He retired to the slums before he could make his fortune, and became a mercenary. I looked very much like him, as I recall. My sister, however... she looked like my mother, Argo always said. She was beautiful, with long, brown hair and dark eyes that could cut through you, looking over your every detail... and she had a voice like honey. While my father trained me to fight, she preferred to spend time in the streets, with the pickpockets and the thieves." She parted her lips a bit, before continuing. "She was twelve, and I was eight, when our father was murdered. He was guarding a warehouse that was robbed. He was killed. So... all I had left was Mayren.

"We left Sentinel; there was nothing for us there. I gave up my dream of becoming a soldier. I could fight, and she could steal... so she decided, we'd make our fortune. She made me cut my hair short- I'd had dreadlocks, before- and made me her protector. She taught me how to steal and be persuasive, and in return I made sure no one could touch her. We went on for years- from Hammerfell, to High Rock, until we made it to Cyrodiil, and here we roamed the countryside for years. Mayren was... never content with life. She enjoyed a life of danger and risk. Until one day, when I was eighteen, and she went too far.

"She'd been stealing jobs from the Thieves' Guild for years before, but... this time, she got caught. We were sent to prison in the Imperial City, and the Gray Fox was going to make sure we _never_ got out. Until a few months later, when we were informed that we were being given a chance: the prison was deporting criminals to Morrowind. Mostly Dunmer, but... the messenger told us that they'd already sent enough Dunmer, and now they had room for one more prisoner... _just_ one." She sighed. "Only one of us could go. We argued about it for a while- but then, Mayren's face grew soft. She told me this quarrelling was pointless. She'd reached out and stroked my hair, told me to sleep on it, that we'd decide in the morning. I'd always been able to tell if she was lying, and I detected nothing from her..." Dragonheart gritted her teeth, clenching her I shut. "I woke up the next day, to find that she was gone. She'd tricked me."

Martin, who'd been listening quietly until this point, was shocked. "And you...?"

"I was left to rot in the Imperial Prison for six years," she spat bitterly. Then her expression lost its ire. "At least, until... one day. A Dunmer was yelling at me, taunting me. Said how 'sad' it was, a Redguard who'd never see the sun again, save for through a tiny window. And then... your father came. He was being escorted out of the castle by three Blades, and my new cell... happened to be his escape route." She took a deep breath, smiling with her eyes closed. "I was free. I was finally free. I could run through the green grass, feel the warm sunlight, breathe the fresh air... and I had a mission," she said, eyes snapping open, trained on Martin. "To find you."

He smiled.

"Of course... I didn't do that immediately. I made amends with the Thieves' Guild... and took control of it. Being penniless, I made my fortune at the Arena. And then I went to Jauffre... and when I arrived, Kvatch was under attack."

"You saved all those people," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "I'm no hero. I came to find you. I saved them because you asked me to."

"But you did save them," he pointed out.

"I suppose I did," she mused. "At any rate, I am glad I found you. You are... good company. I have not had that in many, many years." She stood and bowed. "Thank you, Martin."

"No... thank you, my friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragons are amazing. **#dragonrightsactivist**


	4. Mysterium Xarxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragonheart retrieves the Mysterium Xarxes, almost unscathed...  
> Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow I am _really_ bad at keeping my promises. However, I am doing a mass update on my birthday (November 7th) and this fanfic is in the "maybe" category on my list so expect a Chapter 5 by then

Martin waited anxiously for Dragonheart's return. He'd asked around every day, and every day asking the guards stationed as lookout when they rotated if they'd seen her. Every day had been a _no_.

She'd left on Loredas, and now it was Turdas. She'd been gone for six days, and still no sign of her.

Now he sat in the East Wing library, drinking tea forlornly. Baurus was standing nearby (did he ever sit down?), watching the door, but occasionally sneaking wary glances back at Martin. A few Blades had attempted to inquire as to their liege's melancholy, but he'd politely brushed every one off them aside.

"Are you okay, my lord?" Baurus finally asked, breaking their tense silence.

"I am fine, Baurus," Martin answered, in a tone that definitely implied that he was not, in fact, _fine_. Curses.

Martin's guard shifted uncomfortably. "Is it the weight of your role weighing on you? I know I'd be upset, if the whole of Tamriel was depending on me. I don't know how Dragonheart does it."

"Mm..." Well, that wasn't part of the reason until _now_. "Yes. That's it."

"Or could it be that you're waiting for our lady Champion again?"

Martin sighed, lifting the teacup to his lips. "Well, why shouldn't I be worried? She's the most important person in Cyrodiil right now. Everything is riding on her..." Even if she were okay, Martin was still concerned for her. She had an even heavier burden than he to bear. He was a figurehead. A scapegoat at worst. He'd have advisors to help him. Dragonheart was always on her own- a fighter, a savior, a hero. Martin was nothing without her assistance. And while he was worried, he was sure Jauffre fretted even more over whether or not she'd return safely. Martin had told him countless times not to worry, though he could hardly tell himself the same.

"Right," Baurus said with a smirk.

"What are you implying, my loyal Blade?" Martin inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," Baurus remarked, returning forward and shrugging. "It's none of my business, anyways."

"And what is this that's 'none of your business'?"

Baurus glanced back. "Are you sure you're not worried about the Champion for... _another_ reason?"

"She is my closest friend, Baurus, something I have very few of."

"Mm-hm." Baurus faced away from Martin again, and Martin rolled his eyes, knowing that his guard was only trying to hide his smug grin.

 

"Emperor Martin!"

"What is it, Jena?"

“The Champion-”

Martin immediately snapped to attention. “Yes? Where is she? Is something wrong?”

“No, not… she’s here,” Jena explained. “She’s walking up the steps as we speak.”

Although he was bursting with the will to run to the great hall, he contained himself. “Yes… thank you, Jena. That will be all?”

She nodded, pressing a fist to her chest. “Proud to serve, Emperor Martin.”

Martin walked composedly to the Main Hall, followed by Baurus. The doors were slowly being opened.

“Dragonheart!”

The Redguard’s grey eyes met his blue ones. She was pushing open the doors, but she was no longer in armor. She instead wore a grey tunic, brown pants, and hunting boots. Her bow was still strapped to her back rather than her sword and shield, her quiver halfway empty.

"Ah, you're back!" he sighed, relieved. "I told Jauffre not to worry..." he looked over her concerned features, her lips pursed, brow knitted. "I see you have bad news," he sighed, shoulder slumping. "You didn't recover the Amulet, did you?"

"No," she sighed, "however... I _did_ find something that may be of use to us."

She reached into her pack. Martin opened his mouth to inquire, and was startled when she pulled out a book. It wasn't an ornate book- a simple tan cover, with a faded brown border. However, what caught his eye was the symbol on the front: the Daedric letter "O".

Oblivion.

He knew what book it was immediately.

"The Mysterium Xarxes,"  Dragonheart confirmed with a smile.

"By the Nine!" he exclaimed. "Such a thing is dangerous even to handle!" Martin's fear subsided, and he quickly composed himself. "Forgive me. You were right to bring it. But you'd better give it to me. I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power."

His friend gladly handed the book to him. He handled it with caution and care, as if it had as high a chance of exploding as a man was to breathe.

"Do you think we can use it to track down Mankar Camoran?" Dragonheart asked with a smidgen of hope, though she hardly showed it.

"I don't know. Maybe. I suspect that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise lies within these pages. But I will need time. Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I'll have to proceed carefully. In the meantime, you should speak to Jauffre. He was concerned about reports of spies in Bruma."

The Redguard cursed in a rather unladylike way, but Martin said nothing of it.

He was simply glad to see his friend back safely.

 

Rather than go to Jauffre immediately, Dragonheart changed once again; this time, into a shirt with shorter sleeves to adapt to the warmth of the temple, revealing the bandages on her arms.

Martin stared when she returned to him, somewhat appalled. She had been injured, and not once did he stop to think it may be so.

The Champion blinked. “Martin, are you alright?” she asked simply, because of course she did- she said everything simply.

“You’re hurt,” he scoffed.

“What?” She glanced at her left arm, bare save for the white wrappings. “Oh. It’s just a flesh wound. I’m fine.”

“You were gone for over a week!” he replied forcefully, the anger, a product of his worry, creeping up once again.

“Well…” she glanced at the floor. “I had to fight my way out of the Caverns after my cover was blown. They managed to… get a few hits in. I escaped just in time- I ran all the way to Cheydinhal.”

“All the way to Cheydinhal?” Martin interrupted.

“Yes? It’s not far from where I was. I have… friends, there. They patched me up, I stayed there for a few days, and then I returned.”

Martin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I am well aware: you can care for yourself, and have done so for years. But you can’t simply disappear…”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking, placing a hand on her hip. “Oh, but can’t I?”

“ _Mayrisha_.”

She sighed, placing a hand to her head at the sound of her first name. “Martin. I am _fine_. I merely stayed in Cheydinhal longer than expected." She waved a hand, dismissing any further argument he may have supplied her with. "Can we... let's just talk about the book, shall we? Could you tell me about it?"

Angered at the change of subject, but not wishing to antagonize her further, Martin looked back to the Mysterium Xarxes, now sitting on his table in the Great Hall. He figured he'd be spending much time here, so he'd claimed one as his own. "This evil book was written by Mehrunes Dagon himself, and given by him to Mankar Camoran. I believe Mankar Camoran used it to create his Paradise. It should give us the means to open a gate there ourselves. I will continue studying it."

"Hm." Dragonheart pursed her lips. "You seem to know much of the Daedra." Her voice was barely audible, a dull whisper.

"Yes..."

"Do you have a past with them, Martin?"

Martin's heart jumped. He'd hoped he'd never have need for this conversation. He looked at Baurus, but his loyal Blade seemed disconnected from them and disinterested in whatever conversation they may be having. And he looked to his friend, the Champion, who seemed concerned- however, her worry was not born of suspicion, but genuine care for the well-being of her friend.

Martin let his voice fall to a whisper. "I put aside the dark arts when I became a priest. But the workings of fate may be seen in this, too. 'The gods can turn anything to good', or so I piously told those who came to see me for advice. Perhaps I may yet come to believe it myself."

Dragonheart smiled at that. Martin knew not why, and did not ask.

They sat in silence for a bit. Dragonheart watched the book, for whatever reason, as if wondering what it said- it was written in Daedric, and of his time with the Cult of Sanguine, Martin had learnt it, though most people would never even think to do such a thing. He tried very hard to hide his past of debauchery and indulgence, but this woman had seen right through him. He'd not thought to hide it from her when she asked, however- no, he'd told her outright. He'd never trusted anyone that much.

"Martin."

"Yes, my friend?"

"You have had a difficult time with all of... this." Dragonheart lifted her gaze to him, steely eyes locked on to his. "If you do not mind my asking, now that we have the book, what do you think should be our next step?"

Of course Martin did not mind her asking. He would tell her anything and everything, if only she asked.

"It is now clear to me that the only way to stop the Oblivion invasion is to relight the Dragonfires. Emperor, Amulet, and Dragonfire- with these divine gifts, the daedra of Oblivion have been kept at bay for thousands of years. While the Dragonfires burned, the divine barriers kept the daedra from making more than fleeting visits to our world. But the Dragonfires can only be relit by an heir of the Septim blood wielding the Amulet of Kings. This was the essence of Mankar Camoran's plot. He was undone only by the merest... chance... but his complete victory remains perilously close. We must recover the Amulet of Kings and relight the Dragonfires, before it is too late to stem Dagon's invasion."

She smiled again, hope in her eyes; out of all the things that had happened since he became emperor, it was the strangest thing for him- seeing the hope and determination and joy in the eyes of his fellows when he spoke. Once overwhelming, it was now a source of inspiration for him: it inspired him to move forward, to do whatever it took to save his Tamrielic home.

As much as he loved seeing those feelings in the eyes of his subjects...

He loved seeing this woman's face light up more than anything.

"Ihope to have at least part of the Mysterium Xarxes translated in a few days. Speak to Jauffre about those spies in the meantime," he said, dismissing her, looking away so she would not have to see the blush creeping into his face.

"Alright." She stood. "I shall see you soon, Martin. And do not worry... I'll be more careful from now on."

As she walked away, Martin silently thanked her for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a recent typo, Martin is now a spacegoat. Never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> RE-UPLOAD!


End file.
